"Oh!" Maunders lightly flipped away a cigarette ash. "The shoe's on the other foot there. She loves me, but I don't love her. Still, there's money in the business if Ida becomes Mrs. Maunders. Old Dimsdale's got no end of cash, and Ida inherits everything as his only child. But he wants her to marry Colonel Towton---you know, the chap who did so well in some hill-tribe extermination in India. But Ida loves me, and Towton's got no chance, unless I marry Lucy Corsoon and give him a look in." "You're a cynical, conceited, feather-headed young ass," said Vernon with cold, self-restrained fury, "and I forbid you to speak of Miss Corsoon in that commercial way, much less call her by her Christian name. She loves me and I love her, and we intend to marry, if----" "If Lady Corsoon permits the match," finished Maunders, stretching out his long legs. "It's no go, my dear fellow. She doesn't think you rich enough for the girl." "I never heard that Constantine Maunders was a millionaire," retorted the other man bitterly. "My face is my fortune, old chap, and there are various ways of getting Lady Corsoon's consent." "What ways?" asked Vernon suddenly and searchingly looking at his friend. "Ah, you ask too much. I am not your partner yet." "That means you have some knowledge about Lady Corsoon which you can use to force her to consent." "Perhaps. I know a great deal about most people. Every one has his or her secrets as well as her or his price." "Are you a private enquiry agent also?" sneered Vernon, leaning back. "Ah!" Maunders seized upon the half admission. "Then you _are_ Nemo?" "Yes," assented the dark man reluctantly, "although I can't guess how you came to know about my business. I wish the fact kept dark, as it would be disastrous for me in Society." "Probably," admitted Maunders lazily. "One doesn't like to hob-nob with an Asmodeus who goes in for unroofing houses." "Yet you propose to join Asmodeus," chafed Vernon uneasily. "Oh yes; I think it's a paying business, you see, and I want money. How I learned about the matter is of no great consequence, and I don't think any one else will connect you with this Nemo abstraction. And when in partnership, I shall, of course, keep it dark for my own sake." "I daresay," sneered Vernon, secretly furious at having to submit. "And on what terms do you propose to join in the business you despise?" "Half profits," said Maunders promptly. "Really. You seem to set some value on yourself." "No one else will if I don't," replied Maunders good-humouredly. "See here, Arty--oh, then, Vernon if you will--your business as a private enquiry agent is to find out things about people, and----" "I beg your pardon, but you talk through your hat," interrupted Vernon acidly. "My business is to assist people to settle business which the general public is not supposed to know. I don't find out people's business. They come to me with difficult cases, and I settle them to the best of my ability."